Chapter 9

"Mr. Smith, the work's done. I need to go home." I dug my nails into my palm, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Go home?" Instead of backing off, he moved closer, his arm suddenly tightening around me, pulling me against him. The pressure was suffocating. "Isn't this your home?"

"No..."

"I told you, you're mine." He lowered his head, his nose almost touching mine, those silver-gray eyes burning with undisguised desire, like he wanted to devour me whole. "Since you're mine, you should be sleeping in my bed at night."

Before I could even react, he'd already hoisted me up with one arm.

"Let go of me! James, are you crazy!"

Ignoring my kicking and screaming, he strode through the hallway and headed straight for the dining room, then threw me down hard onto the cold marble table.

The chill shot through my dress instantly, covering my body in goosebumps. James didn't give me a chance to get up. He forced his way between my legs, hands gripping the edge of the table, trapping me completely in his territory.

His fingers traced my lips suggestively, his tone playful like he was teasing a pet.

I turned my head away, teeth clenched. "I have a boyfriend. Matthew's waiting for me. He'll worry!"

At the name "Matthew," that cat-and-mouse smirk vanished from James's face.

"Matthew Moore. Regional manager at the Wilton Group. Salary of a hundred and fifty thousand a year. Polite, well-mannered, bright future ahead."

He recited these facts like reading from a script, but his lips curved into a terrifying sneer.

"Is that your idea of the perfect boyfriend? Or do you just like pathetic cowards who put on a good show?"

"You investigated him?" My eyes widened in alarm. "Since you know he's clean, you should understand I can't do anything else to betray him!"

James let out a short, mocking laugh, looking at me like I was a naive fool.

He leaned down, his warm breath against my ear.

"Ella, do you seriously believe he's just a regular suit-and-tie guy? Your golden boy there? His hands are every bit as bloody as mine."

I froze, instinctively protesting. "That's impossible! Matthew's a law-abiding citizen!"

"Law-abiding?" He scoffed. "Ella, are you completely clueless? He's the Wilton Group's respectable face—he makes dirty money look clean. You're just his unpaid accomplice, doing his dirty work without even knowing it. Think you're handling legitimate tax issues? You're washing blood money for gun runners and slavers! Wake the hell up."

Each word hit me like a hammer to the chest.

Impossible. Matthew might be weak, but how could he be involved in crime?

"You're lying! You're trying to drive a wedge between us to make me give in!" I screamed hysterically, my voice trembling with fear.

James looked at me coldly. "Don't believe me? You can call him and find out."

He casually adjusted his cuffs. "Tell him you want to break up, that you won't touch those dirty books anymore. See how your boyfriend reacts."

Seeing me frozen in place, he added, "Looks like you don't care if he lives or dies. Wonder if that waste of space will make it past tomorrow."

Another threat. This lunatic always knew exactly how to control me.

Trembling, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart.

"Hello? Ella?" Matthew's voice came through, gentle as always. "Still working this late? Don't push yourself too hard; your health matters."

Under James's cold gaze, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, as if gathering every ounce of strength:

"Matthew... let's break up."

He paused.

That silence was bone-chilling.

"Ella, are you joking?" Matthew's voice changed. That gentle facade cracked, revealing anxiety underneath. "Are you too tired? Or are you throwing a fit because I couldn't get you that fifty thousand dollars?"

"No! I'm done. I won't help you with those accounts anymore. I'm tired. It's over." Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Ella! Are you crazy? Listen to me, those clients are crucial. If you stop now, you're asking for death! You can't—"

His voice became twisted, unfamiliar, full of threats.

I couldn't listen anymore. I hung up abruptly, like dropping a hot iron.

The phone slid onto the table.

Why did you have to force me? Why did you have to shred the last bit of my beautiful illusion?

"Happy now?" I glared at James through red eyes, tears falling despite myself. "Watching me break up with the person I love most—does that make you happy? Why does it have to be me? I'm just an ordinary accountant, not pretty enough, not hot enough, with a sick sister to take care of. What exactly do you see in me?"

Seeing me break down, the violence in James's eyes actually softened a bit.

He reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he wiped away my tears, his fingertips sliding from my cheek to my neck with a force that felt like he wanted to crush me.

"Ordinary? Would an ordinary woman dare to negotiate with me at gunpoint? Would an ordinary woman dare to pole dance on me?"

His hand gradually tightened, bringing an inescapable pressure, his gaze burning intensely.

"Ella, you're wilder than anyone, you just don't know it. Or maybe you're playing dumb. As for why you..."

He moved close to my lips, our breaths mingling, like pronouncing a sentence:

"Because prey I've set my sights on never gets away."